


and you are

by wyverning



Series: Kinktober 2018 [1]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Deepthroating, Kinktober 2018, Light Bondage, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Safe Sane and Consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 16:12:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16162364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyverning/pseuds/wyverning
Summary: "You look good like this."





	and you are

**Author's Note:**

> i have... very little confidence that i will actually be able to complete every day of kinktober, but so far i'm 1 for 1. SMALL VICTORIES.

“You look good like this,” Laurent murmurs from his vantage point, looking down at the bound man beneath him. His hips are flush against Damen’s, skin against bare skin, and with how close they’re pressed against one another, there’s no denying the other’s interest.

The dark ropes wrapping around Damen’s arms and wrists look lovely, true to Laurent’s word. It’s more than the visual, though — there’s something about seeing one of the strongest (physically and otherwise) men Laurent’s ever met submitting like this that has his blood running hot in his veins. There's a different, electric sort of vulnerability blanketing the two of them, and for all of his talent at articulation, Laurent can't seem to find the proper words. After all they've gone through, separately as well as together, to have Damen underneath him, _like this,_ means...

Everything.

Laurent shifts back on his heels, ever so slightly, and a soft breath bursts out of Damen’s throat. He knows he’s meant to be quiet, right now, and as such Laurent turns a disapproving frown on him.

“Really,” Laurent says, more of a flat statement than a genuinely-asked question. “That’s all it takes? A single compliment and you’re fit to bursting?”

Taunting Damen is a reward in and of itself, and Laurent relishes the way Damen’s brow furrows as he parts his lips and prepares a retort — only to remember, at the very last moment, the words they’d agreed upon before this began.

Instead, Damen swallows his rebuttal and levels a fierce glance at Laurent. It’s too fierce, really, for his current position, but he’d managed to stay silent, as per the rules of this little game, and such obedience _does_ deserve a reward.

Laurent leans forward until his hair falls in a curtain against Damen’s bared collarbones, and presses a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth. The stiff fabric of his outer jacket drags against Damen's bared chest, but he seems unbothered by it. Damen turns his head immediately to turn the chaste pressing of lips into something headier, predictable as always, and Laurent allows the slide of tongue against the seam of his lips. It's another part of the game, letting Damen get caught up in the endeavor of deepening their kiss as he takes the opportunity of Damen's distraction to wrap a firm, oil-slicked hand around the thick length that’s been pressing up against his thighs for what’s felt like hours, now. The oil he’d thought to keep close at hand comes in handy, now, and Damen nearly bites through his tongue in surprise.

“Unfair,” he gasps raggedly, composure slipping. His previous attempts at drawing a kiss out of Laurent fall to the wayside as he mouths aimlessly against the curve of Laurent's jaw, and if he weren’t so satisfied to see Damen crumbling beneath his ministrations, Laurent might regret the way he immediately jerks back and out of Damen's immediate reach.

“It would appear as though you’re awful at this, _sweetheart,”_ Laurent says, looking disinterestedly at his oil-slicked hand. He feels anything but, something close to giddy with how evident it is that Damen yearns for him. It's almost astonishing, how these feelings have yet to fade between them.

Damen’s arms flex with the instinctive strain of trying to pull Laurent back within his grip, but the ropes hold tight. Laurent’s proficiency with knots is not something to be questioned, and he’s fairly sure Damen would succeed in breaking the sturdy wood of the bedframe before he’d manage to escape the winding ropes.

The put-upon look that Damen shoots Laurent could make even the most hardened of Vaskian warriors stumble over themselves in apology.

“I won’t tell you again,” Laurent says sternly. It’s impossible to be _seriously_ unhappy that Damen’s positively terrible at concealing everything he feels, but Laurent _is_ a bit disappointed that Damen already seems this far gone when all they’ve done is press up against each other like horny pets at a Veretian meal. “I don’t want to hear another sound out of you unless I ask for it.”

Damen swallows thickly before he nods, jaw set in a way that’s more appropriate for marching into a deadly battle than a bedroom with his husband.

Laurent doesn’t ask for this often. He’s more than willing to accept Damen’s affections as they are the majority of the time, but sometimes… sometimes he needs _this._

It’s been a stressful week in court, trying to negotiate a treaty with Patras that won’t overstep the already-established trade routes that lead into Vask, and Laurent’s frustrations have trickled into every aspect of his life: he'd almost been thrown from one of his favorite mares a day previous, so in-tune with his agitation that it seemed to be contagious, and he'd felt on the brink of starting an argument with Damen just to have the excuse to lose himself in the motions of a fight.

To control one of the strongest men in Akielos is a privilege freely given to Laurent by Damen himself, and it is this fact that eases a tension Laurent wasn’t even aware he carried along the line of his shoulders. The ability to bend Damen to his will, to do as he pleases and see the other melt into his commands rather than offer him even the slightest bit of resistance, is a power he’d never even knew he needed to wield.

There had been some hesitation at the beginning regarding Damen's willingness to succumb. Laurent doesn't have the greatest record when it comes to exerting power over Damen's body, but it had been something they'd spent several hours discussing, and eventually, the stipulations of the game that they'd worked out had suited Laurent just fine. This sort of play does sometimes feel like a double-edged sword, though, with how it gives Laurent the freedom — the control — to do as he pleases at the cost of the resonant moans Damen wantonly offers in any other setting.

Though Laurent doesn’t regret the silence enough to _stop._

He takes his time reducing Damen to nothing but bodily shudders and clenched fists, enjoying the sharp pressure of Damen's teeth set against his lower lip as he stifles all audible noises. Laurent doesn't often feel cruel, when it comes to these most intimate of acts, but this draws the line far closer than anything else they've done together.

It feels like an eternity and yet no time has passed at all before Laurent finally deems Damen ready.

He skims a hand, feather-light, against the taut muscles of Damen’s abdomen, just barely missing where Damen truly needs the attention. It feels empowering, rather than demeaning, to slide down the length of Damen’s legs — past those powerful, gorgeous thighs and the curled hair feathering his dark skin —until his face is level with the most prominent example of Damen’s arousal.

Laurent casts a quick gaze upward to see Damen looking at him rapturously. “Do you think you’ve earned this?”

Damen stares at him, eyes dark and overcome with lust, before offering the slightest jerk of his head: _no._

It’s true enough, but Laurent would be lying if he said he didn’t want this just as badly, right now.

“Then prove to me you’re worthy of it,” he says much more flippantly than he feels, now that he’s this close to taking action. “And I will not be swallowing.”

There’s an almost-silent huff of laughter at that, but because it isn’t a vocal intonation, Laurent lets it slide just this once.

He lingers for just a moment at the head of Damen's cock, offering nothing more than the hot puffs of air as he exhales. It's as daunting now as it was the first time he had tried such a thing, and Laurent steels himself.

He _wants_ this. Damen wants this. That's all that matters.

It does him well not to forget this — there's a mission at stake, and Laurent is nothing if not thorough.

Laurent laves Damen's length with his tongue, privately thrilled with the way Damen's body tenses as though he's been dumped into frigid waters. He's so responsive, body entirely malleable under Laurent's careful fingers. Laurent commits to the action, shifting until he can feel the slide of Damen's cock down his throat. It presses against every inch of his throat immediately, though Laurent doesn't hesitate now that he's committed thus far. He's comfortable in the knowledge that Damen's bindings are secure, and he can take all the time he needs.

He's the one in power, here.

Immediately, it feels like too much. It _is_ too much — Damen is far too well-endowed for this to be anything but an overwhelming experience, but the knowledge that he would never take advantage of Laurent fuels him forward.

Against his own desires, Laurent gags, something ugly and muffled as tears threaten at the corners of his eyes, but if Laurent can conquer all of the utter shit that has been thrown at him since he was a child in the manipulative courts of Vere, then a single cock down his throat doesn’t stand a chance. Laurent is nothing if not patient, waiting until his panicked lungs stop fluttering frantically and he can draw in a clean, even breath through his nose. His throat is overfull, tight and hot around Damen’s impressive length, but he forces himself to relax around it.

Beneath him, Damen has given up on all pretense of remaining silent, letting out little, shuddering gasps that inform Laurent that he is, at least, doing an acceptable job.

“Oh, gods,” Damen nearly sobs, and he sounds absolutely wrecked. Laurent risks a swallow, just to see how Damen will react, and the sudden, threatening crack of wood fills him with a heat that sinks low in the pit of his stomach. Damen is most like the beast Laurent has always accused him of being when he’s like this, stripped raw and brought down to his most basest instincts, but Laurent still trusts him wholly. Even if Damen were to break the bedposts, he’d do it only to cradle Laurent’s head gently within his over-large hands and whisper soft, disbelieving nothings into his hair.

There is no threat, here.

Laurent lets loose a devastating purr from deep in his throat, suddenly feeling as full of confidence as he is of cock. He’s been teasing Damen for far too long, and his Akielon fool doesn’t stand a chance now that Laurent’s pulling out all of the stops.  Damen’s hips spasm wildly against the vibrations, and through the pounding in his ears, Laurent can distantly hear him choking out Akielon expletives. Despite ensuring that Damen knew beforehand that this would _not_ be part of the agenda, Laurent can’t find it within himself to withdraw before Damen’s spilling deep into his throat. It’s not as unpleasant as when Damen comes across his tongue; without the distinctive taste, he can almost pretend it’s something far less unpalatable as the seed slips down his throat.

Laurent pulls off with a wet noise, finding with heated cheeks that he’s drooled a fair amount throughout the whole process. Wetness soaks the high collar of his clothing, though Damen is clearly too far gone to register such a detail, and he's quick to unlace his jacket and toss it out of sight and mind.

On the bed, Damen looks hardly conscious, still trussed up and attached to the nearly-splintered bedposts. His body’s slack with contentment, and Laurent wants nothing more than to sidle up beside him and settle into the comfort of sleep.

(He won’t, knowing the dangers of lost blood circulation from being tied up for too long, but the passing thought is… pleasant.)

It’s entirely possible that marrying the King of Akielos has turned him a bit too soft-hearted, but he’ll verbally eviscerate anyone who dares bring it to attention.

Instead of giving in to his pleasure-hazed fantasies, Laurent opts for spitting loudly into a goblet placed on a nearby table. To punctuate the action, he scrunches his nose in distaste. “It continues to be just as foul as always. I don’t know how you stand it.”

“I love you,” Damen sighs airily, and whether it’s a response to Laurent’s words or his actions goes undetermined.

It doesn’t _truly_ matter, Laurent supposes. Either way, It’s answer enough.

 


End file.
